


Cookies

by Anonymous



Series: Agere Omens [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Play Caregiver Aziraphale (Good Omens), Age Play Caregiver Madame Tracy (Good Omens), Age Play Little Crowley (Good Omens), Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aziraphale & Madame Tracy Friendship (Good Omens), Baking, Gen, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26961898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Bored and stuck at Madame Tracy's bungalow, Crowley passes the time doing something other than harassing people on his phone.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Agere Omens [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009284
Comments: 13
Kudos: 61
Collections: Anonymous





	Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill for a request on an agere community on tumblr for a regressed Crowley, and they had suggested Madame Tracy as a caregiver.

He's been sat at the table since Aziraphale left him there.

At first Crowley quietly observes, looking at his phone to make it appear he doesn't look interested in the double-chocolate chocolate chunk cookie recipe. 

He also doesn't understand why Aziraphale decided he needed a babysitter while he visited the small chapel near Madame Tracy and Mr. Shadwell's new bungalow, aside from the obvious dangers to demons in holy places. He could have just waited outside, or looked for a bar nearby. He could have driven them there in the Bentley too! 

His angel had shaken his head and told him 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' (not exactly, but with the quote in mind), and he could argue that they'd been absent from each other for long enough. 

But it was another reason entirely that Aziraphale had made his decision, and it was due to 'little hints' he caught late that morning and after lunch. Namely a few temper tantrums over silly things, like being unable to find his sunglasses when they were in plain sight, and not thinking he could also miracle a spare pair into existence as well. The reaction to the bird poo on the window of the Bentley finally proved the angel's assumptions true. Aziraphale felt it best that Crowley have a temporary guardian angel.

Despite this awkward situation, Crowley is actually interested in what his temporary human keeper is concocting, and has been since she pulled a well-loved tome from a nearby shelf in the kitchen. The cookbook is brimming with love, but if Aziraphale was present he would be offended to see it in such disrepair, with loose, yellowed, stained and cracked pages held within a damaged cover. Even the spine is broken.

So far Tracy's only gathered the ingredients together to make sure she can do it. She mutters out loud that she's out of butter, or at least she was. Crowley murmurs to her to check again. Seems there's a new, unopened package hiding behind last night's leftovers.

She eventually catches his curious glance as she's cracking open an egg over the dry ingredients, and pops the question. 

"Would you like to help, dear?"

It takes every bit of him to keep up appearances.

He'd love to, but instead shrugs and responds smoothly with "Don't mind helpin'. Two's better than one, make it go faster." A successfully cobbled cool excuse to hide his excitement. 

He knows humans bake, they've been doing it practically forever. But he's never had his hand in it, metaphorically and literally. It's much easier to miracle things into existence.

But Tracy makes it look fun and peaceful. Not stressful, like a stuffy restaurant chef on a cooking show. Crowley has long since pocketed his phone, watching her consult her aged cookbook.

"You look like you've got a strong arm. Do you want to mix this all up while I break up the chocolate?"

Another nod. It's hard to tell now if he's still acting, or if it's shyness.

"This'll be a doddle," Crowley thinks to himself as he begins combining the ingredients, but ends up with most of the cookie dough balled to the wooden spoon before everything is properly mixed together. 

He stays quiet and worries inwardly that he's done something wrong, but Tracy leans over his shoulder and chuckles. She pulls the wad of dough from the spoon with her bare hands, putting it back in the bowl.

"Don't be afraid to get your hands messy."

So he mixes again, and when the dough clings a second time, he pulls it off and smashes it back into the bowl. The feeling of the dough coating his fingers causes his lips to curl into a playful smile. Little by little, bit by bit, his facade crumbles. He's feeling comfortable. A kind of comfortable he's only experienced with Aziraphale until now.

"Now for the best part." She dumps the chopped up chocolate from her cutting board into the bowl, and Crowley gets a giggle from her as he hand mixes the sweets into the dough enthusiastically. Tracy adores his enthusiasm. "That's it, now." Crowley looks up over his shades at her for approval, receiving a warm smile and encouraging nod.

Rolling the cookies into rounds could have been done with a scoop, but their hands are sticky and doughy already. The medium has her own sensible size in mind for the cookies, but Crowley thinks bigger is better no matter what mindset he's in, so his cookie rounds reflect that. He tears open a bag of chocolate chips while the medium finishes the other trays, and pushes extra chips into his cookies to make sure there's lots of chocolate in every bite.

They wait the longest 'ten to fifteen minutes' ever for them to bake. Time feels much slower for Crowley when he's regressed, and he feels like the universe is against him for making giant cookies that need more baking than the smaller ones. He sits backward and straddles the chair in front of the oven, watching the minutes tick down by the second. Madame Tracy turns on the oven light, and Crowley switches his attention back and forth from the cookies to the timer. The kitchen begins to smell heavenly, as Aziraphale would say, from the baking treats.

Crowley's impatience only worsens after it's time to take the cookies out. They have to cool, so he turns and sits properly in the same chair and watches Tracy slide each cookie from the baking sheets to the wax paper-covered cooling rack. Crowley feels a sense of pride in his giant cookies, subtly poking the edge of one every few minutes to test its temperature when he's certain the medium isn't looking. When they're warm enough that a human can handle them safely, he can't resist any longer and reaches for one of the broken ones, because nobody would miss those, would they?

"Hang on, dear. You can't have cookies without a glass of milk." She fills two tall glasses, and places one in front of the demon. He understands that as the go ahead to dig in. He can't understand why his corporation's mouth is watering, or why he's so excited to eat something so simple (let alone eat anything to begin with).

With the first bite, his face brightens. The cookies aren't the only thing that are ooey-gooey and warm inside now. Who knew a homemade chocolate chip cookie could give him the same sense of contentedness that a successful temptation could? Even the ice cold milk tastes as good as a well aged wine (and drinking wine with these is a sin he couldn't bring himself to commit).

"I think we both did a good job. Nana's never had a little helper before."

Crowley likes that nickname, even though technically he's thousands of years her elder. Less of a mouthful than 'Madame Tracy'. A special title just for him to use.

When Aziraphale returns to retrieve his Adversary, Crowley practically tackles him in a hug, which surprises him almost as much as the brown paper bag he shoves excitedly in front of the angel.

"I've made you something, angel! You've got to open it right now." He insists.

"Oh, goodness! A surprise for me?" He smiles, catching Madame Tracy winking at him before he opens the package that has Crowley's writing (and a drawing of a snake making a heart shape) on it: To My Angel, From Crowley. They both know Aziraphale will love it, and he does, blushing bright red and taking in the aroma of the two large homemade cookies stored in a plastic baggie, kept closed with a length of red ribbon. "Thank you, dear love. I can't wait to taste them!"

"I made'em all by myself!" Crowley proclaims. "Oh, er,"Crowley turns beat red, even though it's more than obvious he's in his little space. "With Nana's guidance, of course. Best to have expert human advice on hand and all that."

Why is his demon so impossibly cute, Aziraphale wonders. "They're sure to be the highest quality cookies then. Shall we head home to enjoy them? We could--"

"Nooo, angel. You can't eat them without milk! Siiit." Crowley guides him to the table. Big Crowley's gone again. Madame Tracy is doing very well at keeping her poker face intact, though she does smile warmly throughout their exchanges. It's hard not to giggle; she had no idea how adorable and endearing Crowley was until today. To think the 6000 year old demon is also a little demon.

And so the three of them sit at the table, and Aziraphale talks of his afternoon while they all decide to have more cookies and milk. Crowley sits quietly and eats while admiring his angel, chocolate at the corners of his lips (and a few rogue droplets of milk on the front of his top that nobody will notice). Madame Tracy rubs and pats the demon's shoulder and Aziraphale holds his hand when he places his own on top of his love's.

They don't realize how long they've sat and chatted casually until Crowley yawns uncontrollably. The caretaker in both Madame Tracy and Aziraphale springs into action.

"Oh, look at the time. I'm so sorry for keeping you. I expected Mr. Shadwell to be home by now. Must be talking of wizards and what-not with someone."

Aziraphale chuckles. "Thank you so much for babysitting." he thanks her softly, though Crowley can hear and reacts with a pout and rosy cheeks.

"It was my pleasure. He was so well behaved."

"We can come to visit again? Yeah?" Crowley asks them both, letting Aziraphale take and hold his hand.

"You're welcome to visit anytime."

"I _will_ need to return these hymnals once I repair them..."

"I guess it's settled. We'll bake something new together."

After being showered with even more grateful thank yous from the angel, and giving the demon a goodbye hug (or rather, receiving one as a pleasant surprise from the sleepy devil), she sees them off as they head down the road to the bus stop that will take them back home, unaware that Aziraphale will just miracle them home at that point. Her heart melts when Crowley turns back and waves.

"Bye, Nana!"


End file.
